


Arcadia

by abaddon (nothingbutfic)



Series: Et in Arcadia ego [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry has some trauma, M/M, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 11:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12505928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutfic/pseuds/abaddon
Summary: After the war: there but for the grace of God went I. [Harry/Draco, post-War, AU.]





	Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Maya, Ash and Arwena for the encouragement, and weatherby for the beta. This fic was in part inspired by Robin Hobb's sequence of stories. 
> 
> Originally written and posted between OoTP and HBP, and so incredibly out of the ballpark.

The rambling old house was covered in ivy and moss, creeping vines and climbing roses forming an almost impenetrable barrier to the outside world. Not many people came here, now. Not many even remembered it existed. It was a testament to an age gone by, and memories long since forgotten. 

The current resident of the house trusted to that; trusted that anyone who knew of Godric's Hollow was long since dead and buried, just the way he wanted to be. The sign outside had been taken down, as well, and he'd blackened out the windows with charms and spells. The paths had not been swept, and the garden lay untidy, all the beds gone to seed. Inside, he shuffled from room to room like a man old before his time, bent and wearied by age. He avoided the rooms that faced out onto the road; for all his charms, he did not trust them. He trusted little anymore, save for the wolfhound that slept by his bed, and that was because dogs could not lie.

Even then, he only kept Cedric by his side as a reminder of his own humanity, and a concession to his need for company. Even he could not live alone; even if he wanted to, even if he should.

Every Monday he ventured down to the nearby supermarket and got his groceries, cap firmly on his head. It didn't matter now, really, seeing as the scar had healed itself once everything was over, but he didn't trust that either, and besides, he was used to the cap by now. The townspeople were used to seeing him round, and there were plenty of people who kept to themselves in and around Bristol. Cedric didn't rate much of a mention either, as he stayed close and almost underfoot during shopping trips.

It was a quiet, peaceful existence, for a man who'd never known quiet or peace. 

And then after six months, Harry came back from a shopping trip, laden with plastic bags, eased himself through the gate at the side of the property, made his way through the tangled growth to the kitchen entrance, slid the key into the door, and found Draco Malfoy sitting in a chair in the kitchen.

"Hello Harry," the young man said, looking like a spirit of spring in the sad, grey room. "I've come to bring you back. The world needs saving again."

Harry looked at him for a while and did not speak.

"I _am_ serious," Draco responded, a bit irritated by Harry's silence. "I wouldn't have come if I wasn't."

"I don't care," Harry told him, dumping the shopping on the kitchen table with a rustle of plastic, beginning to unpack things and put them away in the fridge. "I told you to leave me alone."

"And we did. We did as long as we possibly could." Draco spoke from behind him, close enough to touch - too close in Harry's opinion - and he shuffled off towards the pantry, stacking packets of crisps and cans of dog food for Cedric, as the dog eagerly tangled in and out of his legs, knowing damn well what Harry was putting away.

"Couldn't you have left me alone forever?" Harry murmured, and refused to face him. He opened up one of the upper side cabinets, getting out a glass and filling from the faucet. His hand was shaking as he brought it to his mouth, and Draco saw that quite easily, his own hand wrapping around Harry's own.

"I missed you too much," Draco replied, helping Harry lift the glass to his mouth, other hand smoothing under his left arm and resting on his belly.

"Got a funny way of showing it," Harry swallowed, and took another sip. "'Please, come back, we'll make sure you die for us this time.' Charming."

"Alright then. We need you. _I_ need you," Draco insisted, and when he rested his head on Harry's shoulder, Harry did not shrug him off. Cedric growled, and they both turned to look at him.

"You always were a bad liar, Draco. Even Cedric can tell."

Draco recoiled at that, chin sharply lifting from its resting place. "Merlin. Is that what you called him?"

"Yes," Harry retorted bluntly, jaw set. "I suppose you're going to tell me I live in the past or something, that I dwell too much on what happened, eh? Well, guess who's trying to drag me back to the past right now. Hermione was right about-"

"Granger's dead, Harry," Draco spat. "She's been dead for three years. Weasley's dead, Dumbledore's dead, Lupin's dead. The world needs a hero and he's taken a leave of _fucking_ absence." 

"I never wanted to be a hero. I couldn't have a life, or friends - or a boyfriend! - without wondering who was going to try and kill me, or them."

"Well, you don't get a bloody choice, do you? You'll always be Harry Potter, no matter how many times you run and hide." Draco's voice was cold and taut, just the way that Harry remembered it from fights he'd always pretended he'd forgotten.

"What if I don't come back?" Harry asked, after a long pause.

"Then I'll have to be the hero," Draco told him, evenly, and stood his ground.

Harry almost smiled. "And how will you go at that?"

Draco looked fit to hit something. "I'll die, probably," he said curtly, and made an offhand gesture.

"Probably," Harry said, nodding slowly, "heroes usually do. And this is what you're asking me to come back to."

"Yes. No." Harry kept looking at him, that even steady gaze driving Draco's frustration into anger. " _Please!_ "

"You're only doing it to save your precious skin."

" _No._ "

"You're still a terrible liar."

"Alright then so I don't want to die!" Draco bellowed, the words running into each other as his voice echoed through the mundane little kitchen. "Is that such a sin? You're dying here already, or as good as."

"So I might as well die for the greater good, is that it?"

"You might not die," Draco said.

"But I _might_."

"I might get killed by a Muggle bus on the way back," Draco retorted, clearly getting irritated. "Are we going to sit here all day and play what if and twenty questions, Potter? There's a world to save!"

"Not my world any more."

"Oh, don't be so bloody morose."

"Did you ever love me?" Harry asked suddenly, and Draco breathed in sharply in response, as if he'd just been hit.

"Yes. I still do."

"But you recognise that sacrifices need to be made," Harry turned to face Draco, looking him right in the eye. To his credit, Draco did not flinch.

"There was a reason why I didn't get put in Gryffindor, Harry."

"I suppose so," Harry observed. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Remember how much you envied me? You wanted to _be_ me."

"I remember."

"Do you still want that?"

Draco didn't answer.


End file.
